Photo Album
by Nessa Elendil
Summary: An old empty house and a curious boy. Future mysteries are here to be told.
1. Photo Album

The house had been abandoned many years before. Walls were bare and rooms were empty. Coming here only on a dare, a small figure roamed the many halls, looking for what used to be. A ladder leading up, he climbed it. Into the attic, nothing there save dust.

Something caught his eye, lying on the floor. A book, he wanted to see. Why was this here if nothing else? He picked it up and sat down. He opened the cover, a photo album. The pictures moved.

He slowly turned the pages, looking at the same faces, a woman with amber hair and emerald eyes and a man with untidy black hair and glasses covering hazel eyes. They were young, and happy. Some pictures showed them with a baby. Who were these young lovers? Who was their baby, with his hair and her eyes?

More pages were turned and more faces became familiar as well. There was a man and a woman both with long dark hair and soft grey eyes. Another man with chestnut hair and light brown eyes. All three were young. They all were happy. Who were they? Why was everyone so happy, laughing and waving? And why did these pictures move?

He turned more pages, until they changed. The baby was now old as his parents. His arms were around a fiery redhead with baby blue eyes. These pictures moved. These people were happy. They had three children, two girls and a boy. Another young couple with these two. A man with red hair and freckles and a woman whose hair was bushy and brown, her eyes the same shade. Two children were theirs, a boy and a girl. They were happy, too.

The man with chestnut hair was in these as well. He was older and grey flecked his hair. A woman with vivid pink hair was with him. They were happy. They had one child, a girl. The woman with dark hair was there. She was happy, but she was alone. Her happiness was nothing like before or the others. What had happened? Why weren't the parents and the dark haired man there anymore?

He turned one more page. Not there, here. What happened to these happy people? It was night now. He closed the photo album and stood up. He carried it to look at home. A letter fell out. It was old. He was afraid to touch it. It looked too fragile. But he read it.

_I hate this place. I have to leave. My one love is dead. Killed  
not by You-Know-Who or Death Eaters or a stray curse, but  
a disease, a horrible sickness only our kind can get. He died  
in the house his parents were killed in. I will leave. Everything  
will come. Not the photo album. Too many memories are  
locked forever in its pages. My husband would want it to stay  
here, forever, to guard the home he was happy in.  
Good-bye, my love, Harry James, I love you still.  
Your Ginny, Mrs. Potter_

Harry James Potter, who was he? He heard the name before, long ago, in a fairy tale. He couldn't remember. He put the photo album down. It would guard the house, the Potter home.

He ran home. Great-grandma would know. He asked her. Tears came to her eyes. Did she really know him?

"What's wrong, Grandma Hermione?"


	2. Godric's Hollow

**_A/N: This was supposed to be the sequel, but I don't think it was getting as much recognition as 'Photo Album' (at least it didn't on my fanfiction account on another site), so I added it as the epilogue/chapter 2._**

I look at my great-grandson, tears fill my eyes. Who were the Potters? That was all he asked to know.

But how can I explain to him, when none now remember the hero who conquered the Dark Lord? For I am all that is left; Ron, my dear Ron, Harry, Ginny, Lupin, Tonks, and Jas, are all gone. Their children too, and of their grandchildren, I know not. Whether they were taken by the Wizard Plague or died of old age now matters not, for I am all that's left, my great-grandson and I. When I die, who will remember what we have done?

My great-grandson, all I have left in this world, he must.

I set him atop my old knees, once so young, and tell him all, I must not hold back.

I tell him of wonderful times, of Hogwarts, of them. Our adventures together, those I remember most; the troll and first becoming friends, the sorcerer's stone, the basilisk, the Chamber of Secrets, finding the truth about Sirius Black, the experience with the timeturner, the Triwizard Tournament, what happened to Harry at Voldemort's return, the Order of the Phoenix, the Department of Mysteries, the battle at Hogwarts, finding and destroying Voldemort's Horcuxes, and the Final Battle, in which many lives, both good and evil, were lost.

I tell him of the times after Voldemort fell, when peace finally found its way into our lives, when we all, I think, were happiest, raising our children and living our lives without fear and darkness forever lingering over our heads. In Godric's Hollow was where we lived.

Also, I tell him of the bad; of Harry's early death, of Ginny's distress and of her end, of the deaths of Lupin and Tonks, of losing my darling Ron, his great-grandfather, and when Jas, my last living dear friend, at last was at peace with the world and herself, as all the rest of them, the Marauders, were, for I tell my great-grandson of them as well.

My great-grandson now knows he is more to me than just that, he knows now he is my entire life, all that is left, and that I love him so. He knows why I tell him all that I do, he knows he must remember, and I trust him to do this, with all the love my heart can possibly give, I do.

That is why my heart aches so, as I put him to bed after his weary day. I tuck him in snug, a new burden he must bear lays atop him as the blankets do; and it is with a heavy heart that I make my way into my dark, quiet room.

Maybe now, as I lay down for what I know will be the last time for me, the history of the Wizarding World, my history, our history, will not be forgotten as it has been before, because of what my great-grandson now knows.

"Good-bye, Zachary, I'll always love you."

**_A/N: Zachary means "remember" or something close to that._**


End file.
